by M.S Watson
Chapter Eighteen
‘When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth.’
Jess C. Scott, ‘The Intern’
When I finally managed to convince Lainie to pack her things, and informed Chris and Nevada that we were going for a sleepover, Xanthias shot Lainie a text message stating that he was waiting outside. Thankfully, a combination of extremely heavy rain and deeply tinted windows of Xanthias’ blue sedan meant that Chris and Nevada couldn’t see that it wasn’t Isabella’s mother behind the wheel. I felt guilty for pretending that we were going to be with her for the next couple of days, but I couldn’t help it. It was the only way that Lainie and I would be able to leave without excess questions and suspicion.
‘Have a great start to summer break,’ Nevada told us with a kiss on our cheeks. Chris squeezed our shoulders comfortingly, and it became obvious that neither of them wanted us to leave, least of all tonight. The thunder grumbled in tune with Lainie’s mood and I rolled my eyes, feigning indifference. I knew that Lainie wasn’t exactly happy with this turn of events, but I simply blamed her bad mood on the rain. It wasn’t out of character for her to be grumpy on rainy days, especially when it fooled around with her hair and make-up. A horn blared from behind us, drawing me back to reality as Chris cast a furtive glance toward the blackened windows of the car.
‘I know I certainly will,’ I replied, taking Nevada into a surprise hug. I offered Chris a short one-armed embrace and draped my bag over my shoulder. Lainie remained on the porch for a little while longer, hugging them both as I carried our things down to Xanthias’ car and shoved them in on the back seat. I quickly clambered into the front passenger seat and shut the door, blocking Chris’ view of Xanthias as he peered over Lainie’s shoulder in mid-hug. I was surprised by the heat in the car, bursting from the vents like a bat out of hell. I stripped off my scarf and pulled up my sweater sleeves, trying to cool myself as Xanthias chuckled.
‘You know, you can turn down the heat if you’d like,’ he pointed out, turning the little heat dial until it was half-way pleasant again. With a roll of my eyes, I playfully nudged his shoulder and looked up in time to see Lainie puttering down the path to the car. She shuffled into the back seat and slammed the door, shivering despite the sauna of a vehicle. Nonetheless, she didn’t appear to be completely immune to it, wiping at her mascara and eyeliner as it began to run with the tips of her dainty fingers. She sniped about something to do with her hatred of rainy days, simply earning a chuckle from Xanthias as he pulled away from the curb. I turned to wave, only to find that Chris and Nevada had already returned indoors.
‘Why do we have to do this?’ Lainie pined the entire way to Xanthias’ house. It was when we finally pulled into the long drive that led to his homestead that she finally fell silent, replaced only by the slight purr of the engine and the rocks below the wheels. Upon hearing our arrival, the Davies and Xanthias’ mother filed out onto the front porch, the pretty white wood barrier wrapping right around the house. It strutted two levels, the lower of which appeared to be the eldest, with white walls and classic wide windows. The upper level sported a similar exterior, only the windows were larger and darkened, leading as doorways onto the top porch. A small look-out of an attic stood above it, as though it were the top of a lighthouse.
Xanthias glanced over his shoulder as he drove us toward a U-shaped turn that led directly to the front steps, typical of the old times when horses and carts were used. A fish pond featuring a stone statue of a woman with closed eyes and varying symbols corresponding to the elements adorning the ancient slip of stone she wore. I wasn’t nearly as impressed as I should probably have been, if one was to judge by the dirty glare she offered me as I climbed out of the passenger’s seat. To make me feel better, I noticed that she offered my sister the same glare. Then again, as twins, she probably thought of us with equal hatred. She probably didn’t even bother thinking of us as separate people.
Xanthias cleared his throat, bringing me back to the present as he led us up the steps. Pearl, Lisbeth and the three Davies girls strode inside, leading us through a wide hallway to the main dining area. White and silver adorned every surface, contrasting severely with the black stone floor. Family photographs lined the walls, but I noticed the surprising lack of fatherly figures. In every image throughout Xanthias’ life, it appeared that he was the only male in the family. Weird, I thought.
With our shoes left discarded by the door and our coats hung on a wrought iron coat hanger, Xanthias gestured to two seats near the furthermost end of the table. Chrysabelle sat at the head, her fingers pressing against each other. I could tell by the way her jaw clenched that it wasn’t her idea to bring Lainie and me into her home. Ignoring her, Xanthias sat beside me to her left and Lainie to her right.
There was nothing pleasant about this visit. We all knew my sister and I were seeking refuge, running from a terrible danger that we had never willingly known or sought out. Part of me couldn’t help but complain on its unfairness, how my sister and I were uprooting our lives for reasons beyond our control, but it was certainly better than death. As Lainie and I met gazes across the table, Chrysabelle splayed her fingers over the table top and propped her shoulders back, as though she had a tree stump for a spine. I bit my lip against the bubbling laughter, imagining her with a bird nest for hair and branches and leaves for arms and fingers. One glance at her, though, silenced any thoughts of humour I had had a moment ago.
With confidence, Chrysabelle addressed us both unwillingly. ‘As you may already know, Cronus has escaped from Tartarus and has weakened Hades,’ she stated, her voice perfectly prim and proper. ‘You have both been brought to my household under the strict conditions that you must do as I say in return for your continued refuge and safety.’ She continued on, listing rules and regulations. It was worse than prison for Lainie, whose eyes welled up with tears at the mention of temporarily banning all forms of communication outside of ‘family.’ The younger Davies girls swarmed on her, trying to calm her with reassurances of finding something worthwhile to do instead, but she wouldn’t have it. Swiping at her running mascara, she clambered out of her chair and ran for the staircase, disregarding the fact that she didn’t know where our rooms were.
Chrysabelle watched, thin-lipped and clearly unimpressed. I repressed a shudder when she turned that hardened stare on me. ‘Do you have any problems with our boarding and refugee arrangements?’ It was a challenge, and a clear one at that. I didn’t get a chance to reply, though, because Xanthias stood tossing some money onto the table surface. He looked at me, then back at his mother before speaking.
‘Order some pizza. My shout. If anyone would like to join me, I’ll be in the theatre room, watching movies to pass time.’ He walked away then, leaving only the breeze in his wake as it gently tossed the paper along the table. Pearl snatched it up in a gesture that seemed too careless for her age and stood without a word, moving to do Xanthias’ bidding. She grabbed the phone along her way, leaving us once again in awkward silence. Chrysabelle sighed, her shoulders tense with stress. When it became apparent that no one was going to move, Chelsea began to fidget. Dancing on her toes, she finally burst forward, almost knocking into the chair in front of her.
‘I’ll go check on Lainie,’ she offered, fleeing the scene as fast as her short legs would allow. She took the staircase two at a time, and I pretended that it didn’t hurt me to see her so eager to leave. Just as quickly, more excuses were being flown in Chrysabelle’s direction and I decided to create my own, stating I was leaving to find where Lainie had got to. I climbed the stairs slowly, holding the banister with a shaky hand as I tried not to ponder the severity of our situation. How did people like us even end up in situations like this?
At the top of the stairs, my feet met warm wool floors, the softness causing my feet to be buried. For a moment I simply stood there, my gaze transfixed on the luxurious material before someone coughed. Started
, I looked up to find Xanthias inside the doorway to my right. His arms were folded over his chest and he had one eyebrow raised in a quizzical gesture. His smile of amusement was barely covered over, as though he was trying not to laugh. When I offered him a small smile of guilt he stepped aside and gestured to the space behind him.
‘Would you care to join me?’ he asked me. With my mouth open in surprise, I looked over my shoulder and down the stairs. Conversation was muted as it traveled up to us but I was still able to make out the mumble that was Chrysabelle’s voice overpowering everyone and everything. Thunder rumbled and light rain fell, drizzling down the window I could see from the door. Biting my lip, I nodded and made my way inside. He shut the door behind me, settling down in a bright red bean bag near the entrance. I couldn’t hold back my surprise as I took in the luxury of the room.
The flooring from the hall continued inside the room, and I was almost sure that the floorboards underneath were heated. There were two other bean bags, massive in size and generously comfortable as I sat on a violet one. The walls were white, icily so and the window was much the same as the ones I’d seen on the opposite side of the house. Against the wall before us was a large cinema screen that took up nearly the entire space, with only enough space around the edges for an in-wall shelving system that housed movies galore. There were games behind us, another shelving system dedicated to gaming systems of any kind. Table tennis, pool and a poker table were other features.
‘Would you like to watch the movie or gawk at the room?’ Xanthias asked quietly, amusement in his tone. I blushed, as though I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. I shook my head and twiddled my thumbs in nervousness.
‘The movie would be good,’ I murmured, peeking up at the screen as some old movie I didn’t recognise began to play. It was a Western, and as I looked at Xanthias from the corner of my eye, it became apparent that this was where his tastes were. He leaned forward, stretching his faintly muscular arms as we watched the opening scenes. A child was ill on-screen, sweaty from a terrible fever. His father left for the city from their farm, looking for medicine. I found myself oddly interested, although my interest began to wane in an hour’s time, the sky darkening with a strong storm and the incoming fall of night. Wind lashed against the windows, causing the house to shift with the change in temperature and pressure.
I looked across to Xanthias, aware of his finger on the volume button as he lowered the sound coming from the television. He turned to face me, his features flickering with something that vanished in an instant, too fast for me to decipher its meaning. Instead, he looks openly curious.
‘What are you thinking?’ he asked me, eyes bright. I bit my lip, many thoughts and questions surging through my mind until I settled on one.
‘How do you have fins?’ I blurted, clasping my hands over my mouth as I shocked myself at my bluntness. He laughed, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.
‘You noticed the family photos, huh?’ I nodded, feeling guilty. His smile faded slightly as he fastened his gaze on a hole in his trousers. He picked at the fraying edges, looking nervous.
‘You don’t have to tell me anything,’ I rushed to explain. He held up a hand to stop me and offered a small smile.
‘It’s fine,’ he told me. ‘I wanted to tell you. Chrysabelle didn’t. I think she finds it embarrassing.’ He looked away and sighed, staring at the rain droplets as the ran like tears down the window. ‘I didn’t know how to bring it up, that’s all.’
I sat forward, meeting his gaze. ‘You don’t have to,’ I affirmed. He shook his head, waving a hand lazily.
‘I was born like it,’ he continued as though I hadn’t spoken. ‘The truth is, you and I aren’t all that different. That freak wave was as much for me as it was to protect you and Lainie. While you and Lainie were born completely human, I was born as a strange kind of hybrid. I’m Poseidon’s son. Chrysabelle and Poseidon had a ‘one night stand’ and I was what came of it. Only Amphitrite, Poseidon and my mother have known about it. Amphitrite stopped Chrysabelle from undertaking an abortion. She made her take care of me, and didn’t even turn her into a siren as punishment, simply because she thought the responsibility of looking after me required being human.’
He looked at me and grinned, eyes glistening with unshed tears. I felt horrible for him. I couldn’t even imagine how he’d felt growing up. At the very least Lainie and I had been raised human, not as hybrids. Sure enough, we were similar to him, now that we had embraced our transformation from legs to fins, but we hadn’t experienced the lack of belonging during childhood simply because of not being the same species. I glanced over at Xanthias, curiosity burning in my body.
‘Is that why you’re able to maintain your legs when you touch sea water?’ I asked, hope tickling my mind. If it wasn’t a hereditary skill, maybe I would be able to achieve my goal of living a life of a professional surfer. My eyes were wide, focused on him.
‘Yes and no,’ he allowed with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘It’s easy for me because of my lineage, but Macy isn’t of Poseidon’s blood and can do it with concentration.’ The small flame of hope flared into a roaring fire. I sat up, shrieking happily and I threw my arms around his neck. He was warm and wonderful to hold, burying my face into the crook of his neck. He was tense at first, but as I settled into the line of his body he relaxed and returned my embrace. When I went to pull away he kept a hold of my waist, my forearms resting against his shoulders as he stared at me.
I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t do anything except for stand there, breathing in his scent and feeling the warmth of his hands through the material of my shirt. His breath was warm and minty as he exhaled, blowing back several strands of my hair with the gentlest of pressure. With his face inches from my own, I watched as he bit his lip. He moved toward me, his hands gently guiding me closer until our lips were almost touching. Our heads tilted to the side, eyes closing slowly …
‘IRIS! PHONE!’
I jumped back, startled. My cheeks reddened and I found myself unable to look at Xanthias directly. He cursed quietly, throwing open the door as Chelsea stumbled through the opening and thrust a cordless phone into my hands.
‘It’s your father,’ she half-mimed, half-stage whispered. I nodded, turning toward the window as I placed the receiver to my ear. The sound of breathing instantly met my ear, and I frowned.
‘Hello?’I said, my stomach twisting with unease. I turned to face Xanthias, finding him staring at me as he quietly shut the door behind Chelsea. The phone crackled for a moment before a voice filled the receiver. Ice ran through my veins as I listened. It wasn’t my father. I knew exactly who it was. The voice was unfamiliar, but it didn’t matter. It was the kind of unmistakable voice that I would know anywhere.
‘Iris, honey. It’s time to come home to mother and father,’ Cronus taunted.